


I Just Wanna Be A Good Kid, A Good Son

by AuroraKant



Series: Batfam Week2020 [5]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Absolutely everyone is sad in this one, Allusion to Tim having suicidal thoughts, And at communicating, Angst, Batfam Week 2020, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Bruce Wayne is a Bad Parent, Bruce Wayne's A+ Parenting, Bruce tells his kids that he loves them, But he gets better by the end, But they might be in the future, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, These Kids Are Not Alright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23120071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraKant/pseuds/AuroraKant
Summary: Tim could list a great many ways in which a week could start absolutely disastrous. He hadn't counted on this one: A giant file filled with every dirty insecurity Tim or one of his siblings had ever experienced when it came to being a part of this family. And Tim wasn't even the one taking it the hardest. That had to be Bruce, who had no idea his kids felt like that.Day 5:Insecurities| Identity Reveal | Keeping Up With The Waynes AU
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & His Kids
Series: Batfam Week2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1657645
Comments: 32
Kudos: 331





	I Just Wanna Be A Good Kid, A Good Son

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my friends! ^^  
> Day 5 and we made it into Angst territory!   
> I hope you enjoy it!!! And I love to hear from you guys!

It was Tim who realized first what was going on. Exactly _what_ was going wrong.

They met down in the Cave, the whole family, because of an important debriefing regarding a long-term undercover mission when suddenly all of the monitors of the Bat-computer went black. And turned back on only seconds later, now filled with dozens of audio files, documents, and photographs.

Of course, it was Tim who realized it first. Because why wouldn’t he? Staring him right in the face were multiple pages from his diary. The diary he kept since Kon died. The diary that was supposed to be the best guarded secret on this side of the universe. Laid bare for everyone to read, to see. This was wrong. Awfully, awfully wrong.

But before Tim could react, he heard a sharp intake of breath to his left. Dick. When he looked, his oldest brother wasn’t staring at the pages of scanned diary-entries, no, he was staring at a set of photographed post-it notes. Small, dingy things, all full of Dick’s awful handwriting.

Next to him Jason had gone ghost white. And now that Tim was looking, he could see a suspicious amount of audio files on the monitors being labeled with “RH LOG [Date]”. This was not good. Not good at all.

A sense of dread was pooling in his stomach. Someone had hacked them. And this someone had found things that should be impossible to find. He was Red Robin. If he didn’t want something to be found, it wouldn’t be. And yet his diary was staring accusingly at him. His hand-written diary. Which was locked away in a small vault under his bed in one of his safe houses.

“What is this?”

It was Damian’s voice that jump-started Tim’s brain again. A voice that sounded terribly scared for the little terror. And one quick glance confirmed what Tim had feared: Damian was just as shocked as the rest of them.

Well, no, that wasn’t correct, exactly. Bruce didn’t look scared or shocked, Bruce locked utterly confused and maybe a little furious. Which told Tim that his mentor – father? – had not yet taken a closer look at all the private things spelled out in front of him. But next to the Big Bad Bat?

Stephanie had a green sheen around her nose, and Cass’s face was cast in confusion. All his brothers had not yet recovered and from the static filtering through his comm, Barbara had not yet succeeded in hacking her way back into the Cave. This was a disaster. Against his will Tim could feel himself beginning to breath faster. Oh yeah, he could stare Bane in the face but being confronted with _this_ and his composure took a dive out of the window.

But time got sparse. With each second they only stood and stared the chances got higher that Bruce would actually start and read what was written out in front of him. And Tim might not know what his siblings had to hide, but he would bet that they were just as invested in stopping that from happening than he was.

But too late. Bruce must have stumbled or sifted because suddenly the Cave was filled with the voice of the Red Hood. One of the audio files had started playing.

“Hey, Roy. Fancy hearing you call.”

Jason’s voice sounded rough over the intercom, drained from late-night patrols and one too many cigarettes. It was a voice Tim associated with a Red Hood too close to the edge. It was a voice that still send shivers down his spine.

The Jason in the Cave with them had gone even whiter. Tim thought he could see a tremble in those big shoulders that usually filled him with envy and fright. Not now though. All he could feel right now was that sense of dread threatening to swallow him. Jason looked it, too. He made no move to stop the recording, too caught up in the horror of what was unfolding right in front of them.

Just as they all were. Frozen in the revelations they were unintentionally granted.

“Had just had a chat with dear old Bats. You would think the old man would learn a new trick with time, but, no, it’s always the same: Jason, don’t do this. Don’t do that. Be perfect. Don’t be such a fuck-up. Be more like your ‘brothers’. Fuck that shit, man!”

Nobody would ever think about reprimanding Jason about the codenames rule in the field, and yet Tim had to swallow down some instinct that wanted to do just that. Maybe to soften the blow of the cruel way the word “Brothers” was spitted over the intercom.

Roy’s answers had been cut out off the conversation, so all of them could only guess what Roy had said next, but whatever that had been Jason’s answer broke Tim’s heart a tiny bit:

“I don’t know, man. I was never enough. I mean, even when I still wore the scaly pants B only ever compared me to the golden original. And I mean, can we really blame him? Look at me. A Fuck-up all the way. Everything the Bat never wanted. But fuck this. Fuck all of this! If Bruce wants a son to hate, I’ll be that son. Let’s give him hell!”

Maybe there were more words that followed that outburst, but they didn’t get to hear them.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Three bullets embedded themselves in the Bat-computer functionally shutting it down. Tim didn’t have to look to know who had fired them and yet he did it anyways: Jason had finally freed himself from his icy prison of horror and ended it for all of them. With quite the personal cost. Tim wasn’t really a fan of this method and, judging by the crease between Dick’s and Bruce’s brows, neither were they, but he also couldn’t deny that he was relieved. At least now nobody had the time to stick their nose in his dirty little secrets.

Or that would be the case as soon as the hacker was caught. And the evidence was destroyed. Tim’s mind was already running through a thousand different possibilities to ensure the privacy of his inner workings – and he would have to burn his diaries – when Jason holstered his gun, turned around and left the Cave.

None of them had made any move to stop him. Tim wondered if any of them would have even been able to. But it surprised him, nonetheless. Normally at least Dick or Bruce would have made a move to calm the tides before a storm could break out. This time, Dick had been bolted to his place by Tim’s left the whole time. Bruce was still staring at the screen, eyes unseeing, either from the recording or the bullets fired inside his home.

Tim wanted to exhale, to soothe the tension out of his body, when his father finally did speak, unintentionally mirroring his son:

“What is this? Can someone please explain to me what just happened?”

But neither of them could. Cass offered a colloquial shrug, while Dick finally moved again, checking in with Damian to make sure the Gremlin was alright. Because of course he did. But Tim decided not to spent too much time on his pettier feelings. Those could wait until his private thoughts were safe again. Until then the Bat-computer – or what was left of it – was of more interest for him. But before he could reach the behemoth that made up the heart of the Cave, his phone chimed. And so, did the phones of everyone around him.

No.

The dread that had been slowly easing off his shoulders was back with full force. He didn’t want to look. He knew he would do it anyways. All around him everyone was slowly pulling out their phones from uniforms, work out cloths, and pajamas.

(Damian had a cold and had only been allowed in the Cave for the briefing. He wore Nightwing pajamas and, yes, Tim did plan on using that fact against his little brother soon)

Tim’s own fingers shook when he finally got a good grasp on that oh so vital part of his daily life. And when he turned it on only one message greeted him:

 **One (1) new E-Mail** by **SecretsLover.org**

They were so fucked.

“I think, I’m gonna barf”

And Tim could only agree with Stephanie. He wanted to barf too. And vanish into floor never to be seen again. This would be a mess to clean up.

The file turned out to be files and indeed they were a mess.

There was a video of Stephanie in her Robin outfit standing in front of a mirror chanting “I deserve to be here. I deserve this. I am worth it. I can do this. I deserve this. I earned this” over and over and another one in which she was crying, sobbing about “who needed a father anyway? Fuck love. Fuck Bruce”. Both hurt to watch. Both were never meant to be seen by anyone, especially since Stephanie hadn’t even known there had been cameras when she broke down.

There was an array of post-it notes from Dick, ranging from messages like “Don’t forget to remind Bruce of your birthday. We don’t want a repeat of your 16th!” over “Remember: Self-care is fucking off when he is being an ass!” to “Better me than anyone else”. There was one Dick didn’t even remember writing, one that just said “Make sure they need you, so they keep you around”. It rang true, but where it had come from, he had no idea.

A couple of scanned sketch-book pages, straight out of Damian’s secret hide-out, were also there for everyone to read. They depicted gruesome scenes, murder and bloodshed, but also hugs and tender gazes. But that was not what Damian couldn’t stop staring at, it was a page he remembered creating early in his stay in the manor: A page completely destroyed by the words “He has to love me. He loves me” written over and over until his pencil had broken under the force of his iron grip. A page, he remembered burning months ago.

Tim greeted the pages of his own diary, those he had seen on the Cave screen, only now he couldn’t escape their words: “They would all be better off without me. Pff, who am I kidding? They wouldn’t even notice I am gone” and “Maybe Kon did the right thing: Dying. Fucking off. Bruce is back and yet everyone still treats me like I’m insane.” or “Alfred hasn’t called in a month. Do they still hold family dinners? Did they just forget to send an invite? I bet Damian burned them and Dick didn’t care enough to send new ones”. It was painful. Maybe even more so because he knew the rest of them read his poisonous words too.

There was also a file on Cass, though it was a small one. It was a video of one of her dance recitals, Bruce was watching, smiling slightly. She twisted and turned and ended with a beautiful pirouette. As soon as she was done Bruce clapped and stood to talk to her. But before he could do so, she had stopped him, iron will in her eyes, and said: “I am your daughter. Not your therapist”. And Cass saw that video and was proud. Because she had said it. She had done it. And yet she couldn’t shake the feeling of bad things to come.

The last file had been on Jason. It included the audio file they had heard in the Cave, and a dozen others as well. Late night phone calls with Roy, Artemis, or Kory to contemplate his undeath and – more importantly – his more than strained relationship with Bruce. All of these conversations had been confidential, and Jason was furious because now they no longer were. All his private thoughts pried from his former-dead hands, pushed into the open, forcefully brought back the feelings that stood behind them: The anger, the loneliness, the pain. The longing.

Bruce sat in his study going through each of the files again and again, until he knew each and every word by heart. It wasn’t hard to see a muster: These were the receipts of his failings. All the ways in which he had failed his children, made them suffer. And yet he didn’t know what to do.

He loved them. Of course, he did. There were days on which he feared his love for them would suffocate him. Each time one of them went out at night and got hurt, a part of him died, imagining what he would do if he ever lost one of them again.

Love surged through his veins every time he looked at Dick’s playful smiles, or Damian’s hesitant ones. He could feel it thrumming deep in his bones whenever Jason asked for backup in the field, or Cass sent him a postcard from Hongkong. It was a constant humming in the back of his mind when Tim came down to breakfast with terrible bed hair or Stephanie complained about college.

Of course, it was. They were his children. His kids.

And yet none of them knew it. All of them wanted his love and none of them felt as if they received it. Where had he gone wrong? Hadn’t he done his best each and every time he took one of them under his wing?

Okay, Bruce knew that that was not the case. He knew, he had been inexperienced and too young when Dick came into his life. And he knew that his fights with Dick had created friction with Jason. He knew that he hadn’t been a father to Tim for a long time and that he had failed Stephanie in ways he couldn’t even comprehend. He was aware of his failures in recognizing Cass as her own person separate from him and Damian as a person shaped but not defined by his past.

He knew all that. But hadn’t he been trying? _Hadn’t he done his best_?

Apparently not. At least according to these files. The question was: what now? There were things that had to be done, catching the perpetrator for example, and dealing with the emotional fall-out of this mess. But Bruce had no idea how.

Barbara was doing her best in taking care of the hacking side of things and Bruce couldn’t be happier. She at least wasn’t directly involved, not directly damaged by his past actions. He helped her, of course, but he couldn’t really focus on it as much as he wanted to. Mainly because none of his kids were talking to him.

Nobody had heard anything from Jason, not since he had left the Bat-computer in ruins. And the others had swiftly followed him. Dick had taken Damian to his apartment in Blüdhaven, Tim had returned to his fortress of solitude in the city center, Stephanie had claimed that college was a bitch right now and removed herself from the patrol roster. Cass had returned to her room at the Manor and not spoken with anyone since. Most of them still went on patrol, but none of them talked or joked while doing so. Especially not with Bruce.

Barbara and Alfred really were the only two people left who could help him with dealing with this. And all Alfred had to say was “Talk to them” as if it was so easy. If his kids didn’t want to talk, they wouldn’t. Bruce knew at least that much. Even if he knew apparently nothing else.

It was Barbara who helped him come up with an alternative plan a few days later, when they could no longer ignore how much this disaster was affecting their performance as heroes.

(And hadn’t that always been the most important rule? Perfection in the field because they couldn’t afford anything less. Not them. Never them.)

Her plan was nothing groundbreaking, so simple actually, that Bruce was slightly mad at himself for not coming up with it first. She had made a breakthrough in her research of the person behind all of this and she decided to lure every one of his kids into the Manor – she said the Cave would only drag bad memories back up again – to tell them here in person. And they all did come by some miracle. But then again, Oracle was a force of nature.

They all came together in the sitting room, different levels of discomfort visible in their stances, their faces, their general appearance. So much eye contact was being avoided that Bruce feared the tapestry might catch on fire. When Bruce looked at them individually, he could see just how uncomfortable they were.

Jason had unsurprisingly situated himself closest to the next exit, forgoing his helmet but not his unnecessary amount of knifes, Dick and Cass were leaning against the walls on opposite sides of the room, both of them trying to keep everyone in their field of vision, even if Bruce could imagine that they did so due to different reasonings. Tim shared the large couch with Stephanie both keeping themselves busy, though they were unable to deceive anyone in the room with their nervous glances. Damian was sitting in the only chair, feet dangling over the armrest, constantly switching his gaze from Dick to Bruce himself.

All of their eyes locked themselves on Bruce when he dared to make himself known to the room, Barbara following shortly behind.

“So, what is this about? How long do I have to stay here before I can fuck off in peace again?”

Jason wasn’t even trying to hide his animosity. Not that Bruce could blame him, but they hadn’t even started yet. Luckily, Barbara was far more capable than him when it came to controlling his children:

“Easy there, Hood! We caught the perpetrator. Or at least the tool he used to… publish all that information. And we want to share this intel with you, but for that to happen, we need everyone to keep their calm and stay till the end”

They didn’t take to Barbara’s words kindly, but all of them stayed, nonetheless. With one last accessing sweep through the room, catching the eyes of each of Bruce’s kids, Barbara rolled into a corner, allowing Bruce to take the stage.

“Thank you all for coming-“

“Get to the point, Brucester, I have papers to write”

Stephanie sounded pissed, but Bruce had no idea what her eyes looked like because she – like the rest of the room’s occupants – refused to meet _his_ eyes. All he could see were her squared shoulders and the fierce grip she had on her phone.

“Very well, then: Oracle and I managed to track down the source of the hacking software, only to come up short when we realized that the tech itself was sentient.”

A low murmur went through the room. Nobody had counted on that, least of all Bruce when he had made the discovery. Or better: When Barbara told him of her discovery.

“We found out that the tech, a hacking shortcut I invented for the Justice League, merged with a sentient, telepathic organism from Mars. Since the tech was stored on the computer down in the Cave, the first thing it did was going through all the important personal files on there. Which were on you guys.”

Finally, some of them met his gaze. Tim stared at him, a slightly confused frown on his face. Steph was whispering something into his ear, and with a shake of his head, he raised his voice enough that everyone in the room could hear him:

“But that doesn’t make any sense? The information that was shared – against our will – was not even digital. At least most of it. How would that even be possible?”

He was clearly agitated and after Bruce read the diary entries in Tim’s horrid handwriting he could understand why. Very personal information about themselves had been thrown out into the open. Personal information they had thought to be safe. It was here that Barbara took back control of the conversation:

“It is not. The teach, or virus, started hording information on all of you guys – it tried to hack into my files too, but I have external servers that made that impossible. After it infiltrated all of your equipment, your phones, your gear, your smart watch, it didn’t stop. It went further. It hacked your heads.”

The room exploded. Bruce couldn’t make out any distinct sound, but he could see from the movement of Dick’s hands that he was yelling, could see it in the coiled anger in Jason’s back. There was outrage on Stephanie’s face and Tim had gone dangerously pale. Damian, on the other hand, was red in his face, his hands balled into tight fists. Only Cass acted as if she was calm, but Bruce could see how much she was struggling to uphold that façade.

At least none of them had figured out yet, that it was Bruce’s fault. All of this. Their files had been the one infiltrated because Bruce was constantly checking on them, updating them. His own paranoia when it came to his kids had made them the victims of this foul play in the first place.

“Please, tell me that’s not true. After Brother Blood. After the Crime Syndicate? After Spyral? I don’t… just tell me I wasn’t compromised. Again.”

Bruce’s heart just broke a tiny bit further hearing that admission from Dick. His son had survived so much – all of them had, really – and yet again he would have to suffer through the consequences of another one of Bruce’s fuckups.

“It is true, sadly. The virus searched through your memories, collecting information connected to Batman, transforming it into data and transferring it into files. Which it then sent to all our phones.”

“Is there anyone behind this? Did you catch them?”

There was hope in Tim’s eyes when he looked at him. Bruce had the distinct feeling that it had been ages since one of his children had looked at him with this much trust. How cruel then that Bruce had yet again to break it.

“No. Or better: we don’t know. We managed to delete the sentient virus, and all the collected data, though, making the copies you guys own the only ones in existence. Oracle and I also went ahead and deleted the copies sent to ourselves.”

“So, we’re supposed to be grateful for that? No, thanks, old man! I am out of here!”

And Jason wasn’t the only one getting up to leave now that the cat was out of the bag. Stephanie was pushing her stuff into her bag, Tim had his jacket back on and Damian tried to become one with the armchair he was sitting on. But Bruce wasn’t done yet. There was something important, he hadn’t yet said. Something that might have prevented the whole mess from happening:

“I am sorry.”

No. Not that. They knew that.

“Aren’t you always? Isn’t that the standard? ‘Oh, my name is Bruce Wayne, and I am so sorry, it is all my fault and I will let it all happen again’, isn’t that just what you do?”

There was so much acid in Jason’s voice. So much hate, and anger, and pain… and hurt. Bruce didn’t know if he would ever be able to heal what had gone wrong between them. What had gone wrong between all of them. Jason’s words hurt. They seared through Bruce’s heart and left a hole there to bleed. Was that what his children thought of him? Was this his legacy?

“Cut it, Jason. This is a mess, but you don’t have to go and make it worse! For once!”

“Oh, the Golden Boy back to protecting papa, whenever he calls!”

“Don’t talk about Grayson that way, Hood! He is better than you ever were!”

“Why do you always run after Dick, you little Demon, but never listen to your own damn voice!”

“It’s not always about you, you absolute buffon!”

“What if I want it to be about me for once?”

“Go cry in a corner, Fatgirl!”

“This is so uncalled for!”

There was no rhyme or reason to the screaming match that had suddenly started up in the sitting room. One moment Bruce had prepared himself for all his kids’ disappointment, yet another wound to lick, and suddenly knifes were brandished and voices were raised. Dick had Jason’s jacket in his hands, pushing his little brother against a wall while Damian had managed to once again get into a full-blown physical argument with both Tim And Stephanie. This was escalating. Badly.

Bruce sent a look in Barbara’s direction but the panicked look on her face told him that she neither had counted on this meeting to end this way. Maybe both of them had willfully ignored how explosive all of his children were when a high stress situation presented itself.

Help came in form of someone who was once again forgotten in all the chaos: Cass. Never one to use words when actions would do just as well, she climbed onto the table, and screamed louder than Bruce had ever heard her scream before:

“STOP!”

The room fell silent. Cass’s chest heaved, there were tears staining her eyes, and the silently uttered “please” proved once again what Bruce had feared since this catastrophe started: They all needed to talk.

Again, a tension laid over the room. What now? Maybe it was on Bruce to try again, this time saying the words he had actually wanted to convey, the words that had left his lips way too seldom during his years raising these children. The words he was so awfully afraid to say:

“Yes, please, settle down. What I wanted to say was… it was… I love you.”

Silence. Apparently, a simple admission wouldn’t be enough to break the spell cast over the room.

“And that is the reason I wanted to say sorry. Because I thought you knew that. I thought, my actions spoke loud enough, but I was wrong. You didn’t know. And that is unforgiveable.”

Even though everyone in the room – even Barbara – had stopped looking at him, had stopped meeting his eyes what felt like ages ago, he could read the nervousness in their body language. None of them wanted to be here and Bruce couldn’t say he was surprised. He wasn’t a heartfelt person. He had tried his best again and again, but it didn’t come naturally for him. The opening up, the vulnerability, the trust. And wasn’t that just sad? Batman failing to trust his Robins.

But that would end right now. Right here.

“I love all of you. And while my past actions won’t be forgotten I will try to be better. I won’t forget another birthday, I won’t work through family dinner nights, I… I will try so much harder than I apparently have before.”

“You’ll fail”

Bruce had counted on some opposition, the disillusion running too deep in his kids, but it still surprised him to hear Dick utter these words. Even though it made sense. Dick had been the one who had most of his birthdays forgotten, who celebrated alone more often than not.

“Yes. Yes, I’ll probably will. But I want to try. And when I fail, I want to try again. I am the Batman; I should manage to tell my kids that I love them.”

Silence greeted him, only disturbed by secretive glances between the siblings, furious movements, and the feeling that whatever was going to happen next would shape this family for years to come. Interestingly enough, it wasn’t Dick who spoke when the silent conversation ended, but Tim:

“What happened wasn’t your fault, let’s just get that out of the way. But… what happened showed all of us, that we’re horribly insecure people. Even the brat. Even Dick. Even the Red Hood. Fuck, even Cass. I mean, me and Steph? No surprise there! But all of us have felt like shit because of stunts you pulled in the past, Bruce. And… and that hurts.”

Where all of his children had formerly spread out throughout the room, they suddenly all came together to form a wall. Jason was still a few steps away but his whole body had shifted to stand with his siblings. Stephanie was backing Tim, Dick had put a hand on his shoulder and Cass had jumped down from the table to sit on his the other side. Even Damian had turned around to show his solidarity. They had come together. Against him.

“And… and what is even more scary is the fact, how good it felt just to hear you say ‘I love you’. Because damn, you are our dad. Or the closest thing we’ve got to one. And I can count on one hand the amount of times you actually said that. And that is fucking scary, Bruce. And sad.”

Bruce, well, Bruce couldn’t deny that. His own childhood had mostly existed outside of the words ‘I love you’ after his parents died. Alfred was a great man, full of love, but he was also very British. He had never learned how to express himself. And apparently six children hadn’t been enough to teach him.

“I am so, so sorry. I will try to do better. If you let me. And I will respect it, if you can never forgive me for my failings.”

“The thing is, Bruce, kids always forgive their parents. It’s in their hardwire, it’s just how we tick. So, don’t make us regret this”

Dick had taken over for Tim and his eyes spoke of a steely resolve. Dick wouldn’t allow for Bruce to fuck up.

“We’re a family. And if you fail to make us feel that way, when you’re actively doing the opposite, then we’ll still be a family. Just without you. Because I think we can all agree that it is time for us to stop feeling shitty just because you didn’t manage to be a father. Because you didn’t manage to tell us you love us. Because I thought you had gotten better since I was a child.”

Bruce nodded. What else was he supposed to do? His kids had set him an ultimatum: Love us like we deserve, or we might not be your family anymore. It was a hard one. One, he definitely deserved. No, he deserved so much worse. It was true what Dick had said: Children tended to forgive their parents even the unforgiveable.

“I promise all of you: I will try. I will do my best. And I do love you. You’re my fucking kids, how could I not”

There were tears dripping down his cheeks now and mortified Bruce realized that he didn’t know the last time he had cried like this. When one of his kids died? What kind of thought even was that. But now he was crying. Because it hurt to realize how much one had sabotaged oneself. How horribly one had hurt others. Because it hurt to be given another chance.

Jason and Damian didn’t seem to be able to deal with this. It was Jason who started the exodus by almost running out of the room the moment Bruce’s tears had started to appear. Damian had whispered something to Dick before doing the same. Maybe all of them were insecure, but none of them were capable of dealing with the insecurities deeply buried within Bruce. And they shouldn’t have to. He was the adult.

Steph and Tim went shortly after Damian, together, turning around and sharing looks with Dick and Cass the whole time while leaving. Dick seemed to debate with himself, wanting to comfort but also being furious. In the end his anger at Bruce won out.

It was only Cass, Barbara and him then in the room. The tears had dried while he observed his children, but he still felt deeply rattled. He had stood apart from them the entire conversation. He had not once been allowed in their inner circle. Cass was the first to reach out to him, and her hands were rough when they touched the tear tracks:

“Just remember: We’re family, not therapists. You keep that in mind, and everything will be alright”

With these parting words, the last of his children vanished, leaving him with emotions he had never learned how to deal with.

He stood in this room, this place that had existed for generations, in his family home, realizing for maybe the first time how he had failed to provide a home for all these children he loved so dearly. The Manor suddenly felt stifling, too many old ghosts, too many stories untold. Too much history, and too few of it being centered around the people he had made family. He loved.

Maybe it was finally time to change that.


End file.
